


Not Even If The World Depended On It

by hjbaltimore



Series: You Don't Have the Guts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguing, Demon!Dean, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe In Miracles?, a really minor depiction/reference to torture, like one sentence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjbaltimore/pseuds/hjbaltimore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“You don’t mean it,” he said desperately.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“Sure I do. It’s just recently I’ve gotten the courage to say it. Can’t I express how I honestly feel </em>and<em> use it to try and manipulate you?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Sam and Cas have finally pinned down a newly demonic Dean Winchester and drag him back to the bunker. Turns out he's kind of a dick now, and with only so much time left, Castiel starts to lose patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Even If The World Depended On It

The only thing harder than Dean’s death was Dean’s resurrection, if it could so be called. A zombie, maybe. A shell of his former self ugly and twisted bursting at the seams of the physical body it inhabited.

It had taken days, weeks of his preciously limited time left to track Dean down. But now that they had him, Castiel almost wished they hadn’t. Sam was crumpled against the wall, irregular and ragged breaths the only sound to break the silence around them. 

Dean struggled underneath Castiel, who had pinned him to the ground inside a devil’s trap, angel blade to his throat.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he begged, voice breaking a little.

Dean snorted. “Or what? You’re not going to kill me. You couldn’t kill me if your life depended on it. If the fate of the goddamn _planet_ depended on it.”

“Don’t be so sure.” For emphasis, his let the blade break skin, and the demon groaned.

“Cas, please. You couldn’t kill me even when Naomi had her claws in you, or when I threatened your little power trip. Both times, in fact. God knows Crowley probably suggested it enough when you two were busy jerking each other off-” Castiel slammed his head back, and Dean fell quiet.

“Cas, what’d you do?”

“He’s fine, I just knocked him out. We need to get him back to the bunker before he wakes up though.” He lifted Dean over his shoulder, and whisked the three of them back to the main floor. Sam staggered over to the couch and collapsed.

He reemerged from the dungeon a few minutes later, and Sam eyed him suspiciously.

“He wasn't wrong, was he?”

Cas shifted guiltily before falling into the armchair next to Sam. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Dammit, Cas. I mean, I was ready to sell my fucking soul to _Crowley_ to get him back, so trust me, I get it. But if it comes down to it, I need to be able to rely on you. We can’t have another Abaddon on our hands. Hell, if we give him too long, he’ll be as strong as Lilith, or Cain. We can’t let that happen man.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Sam, I need to go, for now, but I will be back as soon as I can. Let Dean cool off for now. Plus, you need some rest.’

Sam nodded his head, and began making his way up the stairs. “Take it easy, Cas.”

 ----------------

He slid back as quietly as he could back into the dungeon and, like he predicted, Dean was already awake, eyes black and a smirk plastered overtop a look of absolute fury.

“Thought I heard you tell Sam you were leaving.”

Castiel slid the door closed with a soft _clink_. “I needed to set some things straight first.”

“Like the reason you two hunted me down and are now holding me prisoner?” he snarled.

“It’s for your own good, Dean. We have a cure, it would be foolish to at least not try it.”

“Who says I need to be cured?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? I gotta say man, now I know why Sammy couldn’t stop guzzling that demon blood. The powers are… intoxicating, to say the least.”

“The Dean Winchester I knew didn’t care about power,” he said, trying to keep his face as emotionless as possible.

“The Castiel I knew would smite every demon he came across. Next thing I knew, you were working with them, having drinks, fucking…”

“For the love of- Dean, Crowley and I did not have… relations,” he said with a shudder. 

“I was talking about Meg, dumbass.”

“We never had sex either.”

“But you wanted to.”

Castiel was ready to defend himself, when the truth of the statement stung him into silence. From their very first meeting he felt some sort of stirring when he looked at the demon, though it didn’t prevent him from throwing her onto the holy fire all the same. It was the same kind of itch he got whenever he was with Dean, and wondered if he could throw Dean onto holy fire if he needed to. Probably not, he thought.

“This is beside the point, Dean. We cannot allow you to roam free in this form. You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you.”

“Au contraire, angel. And speaking of which,” the chains clanked as he tried to move into a more comfortable, nonchalant position, “I would be happy to make you a deal, Cas. I could get you your grace back.”

“I don’t have a soul to sell, Dean.”

“I’ll think of something you can give in return, don’t worry. I’m not a crossroads demon, I’m not filling anyone’s quota.”

Cas pulled one of the spare chairs around to the same side of the table as Dean.

“Dean, I don’t ever want to have to kill you-”

“You can’t.”

“-but if I need to-”

“You still won’t be able to.”

“-I’ll do what I have to in order to protect your brother and everyone else. Do you understand?”

“Uh huh.”

“Even if it means keeping you locked up for as long as needed.”

The facade of anything but anger dropped in an instant. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

“You seem to think I can’t do a lot of things.”

They were both silent after that. He hoped deep down this was just the Mark talking. Dean had not even reached a tenth of his potential power, and already had left three buildings smoldering in his wake, twenty different people arrested after possessing them, and several thousand dollars missing from a bank (where four employees had been left in critical condition). By the time they had caught up, he had raised half a dozen demons and was torturing them in their vessels. 

“Don’t worry Sammy,” he said, still twisting blades behind one of demon’s kneecaps, “they’re just some old buddies of mine from my days with Alistair. Even their meat suits are scuzz bags. I do still have _some_ morals.”

He yanked the blade out followed by a muffled scream, and pointed at the one tied to a chair furthest to the left. “See that one’s a serial rapist, that one’s a pedophile, that one’s a Tea Party member…”

“Dean you can’t just go around murdering people.”

“I haven’t killed anyone yet.”

“Or torturing.”

“You’re one to talk little brother.” He jammed the blade back in.

He looked back at Dean, in the same enchanted collar and cuffs they had used to Crowley. He was pretending to be bored, picking his nails while sliding his eyes around the room looking for weaknesses in the bindings.

Castiel got up. “This was a waste of time. You clearly don’t want me here. Try to change your attitude by the time I get back, Dean. We’re only trying to help.”

“No, Cas wait!”

He stopped his his tracks. Before he could sit back down Dean clutched loosely at the belt loop on Castiel’s coat. “Please don’t leave just yet,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. He motion Castiel closer, who moved unconsciously moved without hesitation.

“Aghhhh… okay, here it is; I need you more than anyone, Cas. I love you.”

He snatched at him, bent him over by his tie. He parted his lips, ghosting over Castiel’s, slowly creeping closer and closer to his face. Cas sought contact and lurched forward, only for Dean to move back at the last second with an insufferably self-satisfied expression. He jerked away and fell back into his chair.

“You don’t mean it,” he said desperately.

“Sure I do. It’s just recently I’ve gotten the courage to say it. Can’t I express how I honestly feel _and_ use it to try and manipulate you?”

Cas felt his forehead fall against Dean’s. His eyes felt damp and heavy, as though he could drift off right here, let himself be take in by the dangerous charisma his friend wielded against him. In that moment, it would’ve been so easy to trap the both of them somewhere far away while the last of his grace slowly burned out. Maybe God would take pity on him and take them both to wherever it is angels and demons go after death. Better yet, a miracle would happen, and he and Dean and Sam would just wake up one day perfectly alright, and he could protect them the rest of their mortal lives until meaning a natural end.

Dean stretched his arms as long as the chains would allow him, and with the first genuine display of sincerity in nearly a month, took Cas’ hand in his own, gently pressing a kiss to each fingertip, placing the last one on his palm. 

“Whaddya say you unhook me so I can show my love a little more physically, huh?” he suggested, a sly and seductive grin lighting up his face.

Castiel yanked his hand away and scowled.

“Oh come on, I wouldn’t try to escape until after we were done! Probably!”

He sighed heavily through his nose and lowered his head. Getting up to leave, and could feel holes being drilled into the back of his head by a pair of angry black eyes. He took another deep breath and hunched his shoulders, turning back one last time before stepping over the threshold.

“Dean, you once told me you’d rather have me ‘cursed or not’. If you really meant what you said, you’ll know how I feel right now.”

He crossed his arms and snorted.

“I need to help myself first though. I can’t help you if I’m about to explode, or whatever happens when the grace burns out. Hopefully Sam can cure you. Either way, I want you to know I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Tch, don’t bother. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you,” he snapped a little too quickly. “You, Sam, Charlie...”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“All you guys can just kiss my ass. I’m gonna go resurrect Benny. He gets me.” Dean turned his back and scraped the chair along the floor, as far away from Castiel as the trap and chains would allow and resumed pouting.

As quietly as possible, he slipped out of the bunker and into his car. After a few miles, he felt his mind drifting from the featureless road stretched out in front of him, looking at his hand where Dean had kissed him. He slammed on the brakes, blush creeping from his cheeks to his chest. For the first time in his existence, he needed to curse, _really_ curse. One the more useful human inventions.

_I’m in really fucking deep shit, aren’t I?_

**Author's Note:**

> this story is trash IM TRASH _DONT LOOK AT ME_
> 
> I just love these dumb nerds so much and would do anything for Dean and Cas to have a healthy, canon relationship (of which this fic is neither)


End file.
